October 2015 75-word Writing Challenge - VICTORY TO DG JONES!

[Culhwch]

RULES:

Write a story inspired by the chosen theme and genre in no more than 75 words, not including the title


ONE entry per person

NO links, commentary or extraneous material in the posts, please -- the stories must stand on their own


WHEN WRITING YOUR STORY, PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS A FAMILY-FRIENDLY FORUM


All stories Copyright 2015 by their respective authors,
who grant the Chronicles Network the non-exclusive right to publish them here


The complete rules can be found at RULES FOR THE WRITING CHALLENGES

Contest ends at 11:59 pm GMT, October 23, 2015

Voting Ends at 11:59 pm GMT, October 28, 2015

You do not have to submit a story in order to vote --
in fact, we encourage all Chrons members to take part in choosing a winner



The Magnificent Prize:


The Dignified Congratulations/Grovelling Admiration of Your Peers

and the challenge of choosing next month's theme and genre


Theme:

LANGUAGE

Genre:

SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY



This thread to be used for entries only.
Please keep all comments to the DISCUSSION THREAD


We invite (and indeed hope for) lively discussion and speculation about the stories as they are posted, so long as it doesn't involve the author explaining the plot.


** Please do not use the "Like" button in this thread! **​

 

[Glen]

Brocas's

It takes… me… a long… time… to write… this. I will… keep it… short.

Our evolution… started… with toes… then thumbs… then pharynges… then language. Of one sort… or… another.

Our evolution… got out… of hand. We got… noticed.

The cull… targets… our language.

Those with… Wernicke’s aphasia… speak... fluent nonsense… understand nothing.

I am… succumbing… (I weep… at the beauty… of that word)…to Broca’s. I understand… but cannot say.

Everything… is falling… apart.

 

[Luiglin]

Digital Communication

Within the portal, the Dark Lady, her Minion to one side, smiled and spoke a torrent of gibberish.

"You see? Not a clue," exclaimed the Dark Lord.

The Minion's fingers nimbly danced.

The robes on the Dark Lady's Minion shifted, revealing a dainty foot. Toes, nails painted a lustrous red, wiggled deftly.

Like eyebrows, the Minion's knuckles rose in astonishment, before relaying the message.

The Dark Lord blinked.

"Err... are we doing anything tomorrow night?"

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

Love Letters

Because he had no voice, he spoke to me in the whisper of grass stirred by soft winds. Because he could not hear me, I answered him with kisses of rain. Because he could not write, he carved our names in the sky with clouds and lightning.

Because you cannot see us, you pray to us with every breath. Because you cannot touch us, we embrace you with starlight. Because we cannot die, you live.

 

[Vaz]

A Scholar & A Sinner

They never knew how to translate, I did, that was their last mistake.
They thought the language was crafted by a lesser species, how wrong they were.
They thought I didn't have the spine. The captain laughed. The others begged.

I accompany my living, breathing treasure to the press conference.
When asked about the others, what will I say?

Well, I've always been good with words.

 

[Travis Woodward]

The Beacon


The world had stopped, but Eva was still working. She tweaked the code, ran it again. As she waited her attention shifted to the news. It was on a loop.

The holiday video. The briefly materializing creature. The sound, so alien, so tantalizingly familiar. Then the talking heads, speculating. Clips of rioting around the world…

The program chirped. It had found a pattern – heavily compressed sound, the same two words in every language: “Help us”

 

[LittleStar]

Piece Taut to a Whirled at Wore


Dew ewe here the reigns,
my sun? Sea the canons chute, and hale
the caul to arms.

Sea hymn, this kernel of men?
Here his whirreds.
There thyme’s worn pail
yet he has mustard they’re pane.
What a pear yule make; he the prints
before yore thrown.

Go.
Ewe urned the rite to way there morning soles.
Spread yore whirred, together,
sing yore tails;
four know man can rest
himself from Daemon’s more
without ewe.

 

[HazelRah]

Muted


She made frantic shapes with her hands, moving them in a dance that flowed like the air.
Her gestures grew desperate as the winds blew stronger, pushing at us like we were wet paper.

She grabbed me, her eyes wide and watery, willing me to understand. But I had never been taught how to hear messages, only hearts.

I reached out to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks.

That’s when the floods took us.

 

[Ashleyne]

The Helpful Earthling


The Earthling came and sniffed me, said I smelt like bark.

I told him my spaceship was shot down. He sympathised, said it was ruff.

I said “I need to fix my spaceship.”

He asked “How? How how how?”

“I have no idea.”

“Hmmm” he said, in a high-pitched whine. He scratched some of his fur off.

I used the fur to strap my ship together; then off I went, back into space.

 

[Droflet]

One Small Misstep.


“No communication yet. The translator is still deciphering.”

“Ugly brutes, aren’t they?”

“Indeed captain, quite hideous.”

“Ha, makes a Gorn look like an Orion slave girl.”

“Yet they outgun us ten to one.”

“%#@*&! them. They’re probably as stupid as they are ugly.”

“Comm. translator tied in.”

“Greetings from the United –”

Shut the %#@*&! up, Earth scum. Prepare to die. The voice spoke not to his ear, but his into his mind.

“Aww, %#@*&!.”

 

[Cat's Cradle]

The Single-Personality Mutant/s in a World of Sequentially-Integrated-Multiple-Personality Individuals

Job interview...
“Why hire me-us? Well:”—“Limited stealing!”—”Punctualish!”—”Snitch on co-worker/s!”
...
“I-singular offer experience and loyalty…”
##
...tavern...
“Hello, baby/ies!!”—”Perfumed!”—”Pretty!”—”Butt!”
“Please ignore him-them. May I-singular sit?”
”Interfering busybody-singular!”—“She-they is-are mine-ours!”—”Mutant freak-singular!”—”Kill!”
##
...alleyway.
“He-singular approaches!”—“Shoot!”—”Wow...unsure...”—“...Reconsider?”
Karate kick — a gun flies — one man hugs the other.
“Please listen: I-we/mutants mean you-you/humanity no harm.”

 

[Bowler1]

Love at First Smell

I’m the first human ambassador to the Cuisco; a rigid and inflexible caste species ruled by females. Their language known as scenting is both verbal and non-verbal. Scenting uses pheromones mostly, but its ripe and pungent smell reminded me of a tramp on a hot summer’s day.

With the faith of mankind resting on my shoulders I was nervous, who wouldn’t be?

I bowed with a flourish and farted loudly… and accidentally initiated mating rituals.

 

[Juliana]

Fowl Words

The first spell I ever cast was the day she washed my mouth out with soap. Not the nice, scented, bathroom soap, either, but the bitter-tasting stuff from the garage, oil stained and nasty.

“Disgusting child!” she shrieked. “A foul-mouthed Devil’s brat, just like his father,” she said, crossing herself.

Foul? I’d give her foul.

I have to say, Mother makes a lovely chicken.

 

[Kerrybuchanan]

Vive Quercus robur​

Names have power.

I speak the secret name of the oak, and she listens. Rustling leaves and creaking branches are her reply.

She tells me, in a whisper, that Ivy is throttling her voice.

He has no mercy – his leaves chatter as he tightens his grip.

I speak Ivy's secret name, and he hears. His leaves turn brown, and his suckers fall from the tree. His dead leaves scream, but he doesn't know my name.​

 

[farntfar]

A chip off a new block

More spuds anyone?

Grinsht far argurasl tubers.

LACHchch! I’ve told you before. At your father’s table we speak Earthish.
And you know how proud he is of his potatoes.

Balls, mother. It’s very sweet but he’s just the farntfar. You could have got your sparmtlcch anywhere.
Shamfarbrjjjjt hurns Earthlings.

Varkrethurb, LAch! Boshburntl forgforg lampsi.
And don’t use words like “sparmtlcch” in front of your little brother.

Nevermind dear. Boys will be............

Balls!_________ (Hihihihihi.)

Language, Timothy!

 

[Hex]

Alien Bride

They broke my feet; I didn’t cry.

They bound my legs, amputated the extra; I was proud.

Beauty brings marriage. Marriage brings peace.

They adjusted my larynx. Trystan language is hard, but, altered, I’m learning. My new husband will be proud of me.

To speak Trystan, I have lost our speech, the poems of Ishell, the lullabies you sang me.

But I can write: I am proud to do this for you. Don’t forget me.

 

[Mr Orange]

Gernusian Octopoids Only Get Limited, Error-ridden Translation


What's this she gave you? A translation device?

Tap tap...

Ooh, a video of a small, furry animal dancing...

Vrak! Focus! What's the bipede saying?

They come in small, green, spherical vegetables apparently.

Well, that's just silly.

Wait, she's still going... They mean us no arms.

She making fun of our tentacles?That's hurtful... Anyway, say we wish to be friends with her people.

Tap, tap, tap...

"Us want mate you."

Where's she going now?

 

[ratsy]

Fathers will be Fathers

Our bodies pressed together tightly; words weren’t needed that night. So what if she was green with three eyes? Everything else was very symbiotic.

She rested her head on my chest, and then I heard the footsteps. All of her eyes went wide, and she pushed my pants at me. I tried to jump into them as the door swung open.

A ray-gun loomed in front of my face. Some things were universal.

 

[chrispenycate]

Linguistic

Whether recited, spoken, sung
By roots etymological
'Language' necessitates a tongue
For progress anagogical.

Lacking this organ, cybernauts
Bereft of sensitivity.
Deliver speech through data ports,
At least, that's their proclivity

Though word concept's immaculate
They lack the possibility,
To murmur or ejaculate
With deep verbal agility.

While HAL may prate, and 'Daisy' sing
Mellifluously enunciate
It all equates to verbal bling
Emotional renunciate

Communication's baby, HAL
Cannot caress sensuously
A fricative or labial.​

 

[Dan Jones]

The Ministry Of Language and Linguistics

“Sorry Mr K, but persistent nonpayment of Lexitax means forfeiture of further words to Ministry holdings until outstanding payments are made.”

K squirmed, wringing his hands. “…No take… p-p-please… ”

The man behind the desk inspected K. “What was your job, Mr K?”

“…room… ch-children…”

“Teacher?”

K nodded, trembling. “Please… but… work… ch-children… ”

“Words are precious, Mr K. You must maintain Lexitax payments.” The man smiled. “I think this time we’ll take ‘please’, ‘children’ and ‘no.’”